His Hometown Girl. Jillian Hart

didn’t believe it herself.

      Chapter Two

      An emergency call came when he was finished with Karen’s car. The early ’70s model with a rusting olive-green paint job managed to start after several attempts. There was no doubt about it—the car needed serious help.

      He shut off the ignition, tucked the spare key back into place behind the visor and climbed out into the scorching sunshine.

      Karen’s scent from her car seat—a combination of baby shampoo and vanilla—clung to his shirt. A sharp ache of longing speared through him, old and familiar, and he ignored it. Over the years he’d gotten good at ignoring it. The scent tickled his nose as he ambled across the gravel lot. He ignored that, too.

      The coffee shop looked like it was quieting down. The group of tourists must have headed out, now that their bus was as good as new. He didn’t have time to step inside and wait for Karen to get back from her errands, not with an elderly woman’s radiator boiling over in this heat.

      There was nothing else to do but to hop into his truck and let the air-conditioning distribute the faint scent of vanilla and baby shampoo.

      Great. That was going to remind him of Karen for the rest of the afternoon.

      When he’d been patching up her cut, he’d been close enough to see the shadows in her dream-blue eyes. He hated that there wasn’t a thing he could do to comfort her.

      Anyone could see a woman as fine as Karen belonged with a man like Jay, a man with a big future ahead of him. And even on the off chance that Karen didn’t marry Jay, it wasn’t as if Zach had a chance with her. Not a man who’d grown up on the outskirts of town in a rusty old trailer.

      He took a ragged breath, vowing to put her out of his mind. He checked for traffic on the quiet street and pulled out of the alley.

      As he drove down the main street, he saw Karen coming out of the town’s combination florist and gift shop. His pulse screeched to a stop at the sight of her. She didn’t see him, walking away from him the way she was, so he could take his time watching her. Karen was fine, all right, and as beautiful as a spring morning. Head down, long light brown hair tumbling forward over her face, she carried a live plant that was thick with yellow blossoms.

      No, he wasn’t going to wish, he wasn’t going to want.

      Some things weren’t meant to be.

      Zach headed the truck east away from town and did the only thing he was allowed to do for Karen McKaslin. He said a prayer for her.

      Karen watched as her gramma’s spotless classic Ford eased slowly into the cemetery parking lot. The rumble of the engine broke the peace of the late afternoon.

      She stood, squinting against the brilliant sun, and left Allison’s flower-decorated grave. She waited while her grandmother parked her car and then emerged, clutching a bouquet of white roses.

      “I recognized your rattletrap of a car in the lot.” Gramma held her arms wide. “How’s my girl?”

      “Fine. I’m just fine.” Karen dodged the bouquet and stepped into her grandmother’s hug. More warmth filled her, and all the worries bottled up inside her eased. “I shouldn’t have left you with the shop like that. I shouldn’t have let you bully me.”

      “You were powerless to stop me.” Gramma stepped away, squinting carefully, measuring her with a wise, sharp-eyed glare. “Don’t try to fool me, young lady. You don’t look fine. You look like you’re missing your sister.”

      “She was my best friend.”

      “I know.” Gramma’s voice dipped, full of understanding. “Let me go set these on her grave. She loved white roses so much.”

      Tears burned in Karen’s throat, and it hurt to remember. She remained in the shade of the oaks, so that her grandmother would have time alone at Allison’s grave.

      Karen watched as the older woman ambled across the well-manicured grounds, through lush green grass and past solemn headstones.

      Sorrow surrounded this place, where bright cheerful flowers and a few colorful balloons decorated graves. At the other end of the cemetery, she could see another family laying flowers on a headstone in memory.

      Time had passed, taking grief with it, but Karen didn’t think anything could fix the emptiness of Allison’s absence in her life or in her family. Not time, not love or hope.

      She waited while her grandmother laid the flowers among the dozens of others. She waited longer while the older woman sank to her knees, head bowed in prayer.

      In the distance, a lawn mower droned, and overhead, larks chirped merrily. It was like any other summer afternoon, but this day was different.

      “Now that I’ve given thanks for the granddaughters I still have, I’m ready to go.” Gramma took Karen’s hand. “I closed the shop for you, so there’s no sense hurrying back this late in the day just to open it for an hour. Why don’t you come home with me and give me a hand?”

      “You know I can’t say no to you.”

      “Good, because I promised your mother that I would make sure supper’s on the table tonight, not that anyone will feel much like eating. But since she’s my daughter, I’ll do whatever she’ll let me do. And if that’s to make my famous taco cheese and macaroni casserole, then so be it.”

      “What about Mom? Dad’s busy with the harvest. Maybe I should run home first and see how she is. Make sure she isn’t alone.”

      “One of your sisters is with her—Kirby, I think. I called from the shop before I came here.”

      Karen felt the sun on her face, the wind tangling her hair and the disquiet in her heart. So many responsibilities pulled at her, but she could feel her grandmother’s love. Because they were standing in a cemetery with both life and death all around, she nodded, unable to say the words.

      There was never enough time on this earth to spend with loved ones. It was a truth she couldn’t ignore, not after losing Allison. Time was passing even as she let Gramma lead her toward the parking lot where their cars waited in the shade.

      “Do you need me to stop by the store and pick up anything?” Karen asked as she opened her car door.

      “I already did. No grass grows under these feet,” Gramma answered, her blue eyes alight with many emotions.

      Karen’s throat tightened, and she climbed into the driver’s seat. Even with the windows rolled down to let in the temperate breezes, she could still smell the scents of mechanic’s grease and Old Spice, evidence of the man who’d sat behind this wheel only hours ago.

      A rumble of a powerful engine drew her attention. In her rearview mirror she caught sight of Zach’s blue-and-white tow truck rolling up the driveway.

      She turned the key in the ignition and gave the gas pedal a few good pumps, and the engine started and died. Started and died. Started and coughed to life. Gramma was parked at the edge of the lot, patiently waiting.

      Karen put her car in gear and pulled around, having only enough time to wave to Zach as he rumbled into one of many empty parking spots. He lifted a hand in return. The tips of yellow blossoms waved above the dash, and she sped away, somehow touched beyond words.

      She knew without asking that he’d brought flowers for her sister’s grave.

      “Is this why you asked me over?” Karen turned to her grandmother the minute she stepped foot inside the kitchen door. “Don’t tell me you’ve taken up Mom and Dad’s cause?”

      “What cause, dear?” Gramma set her purse and keys on the nearby counter.

      “Trying to show me how wrong I am to call off my wedding.” Trying to control her anger, Karen pointed at the sunny picture window. Over the top of the short cedar fence, she could see